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Dick Sutphen, Master of Life Column
Dick Sutphen, Master of Life Column
Dick Sutphen, Master of Life Column

Moorea Journal 

In a change of format, this week only, I’ll share about 3 pages of my new “Moorea Journal” which covers our research trip and family vacation to French Polynesia (Sept. 30 -- Oct. 8). The approximate 25-page journal is posted at our website along with many photos. Or you can click here to go directly to the journal.

Excerpt

At the LAX currency-exchange window, I buy $200 worth of French Pacific Francs -- a graphic reminder we’ll be entering French territory.

“No fighting with French people,” Tara says.

“Nah.”

I’m easy to get along with, but for some past-life reason (I’m assuming), the French push my buttons. They’re a test. That which you resist you draw to you. And if you can’t learn the easy way, that which you resist you become in a future life. I’m one-eighth French in this life and I do not want to come back 100-percent French in my next life. So if for no other reason than to live my philosophy, I will get along with them this time.

The French won’t queue. Everyone else is willing to line up to wait for a bus, or to enter a theater or get on a plane. But some bourgeois superiority instinct arises within this nationality and they figure they belong at the head of any line, so they just crowd in. This, however, does not work when I’m waiting in the line. They also tend to yell at you if you can’t speak their language, or for any other reason they deem appropriate. Tara speaks a little French, so I let her talk for me and there is no yelling.

“No fighting,” Tara repeats.

I nod in agreement.

French Corsair Airlines boards the 747 late. We have four seats across in the center section. Finally settled comfortably in my seat, I prepare to listen to music on my Walkman and read a Tahiti travel book.

The French woman seated in front of me kicks my feet. She wants to use my foot space to stow her bags. “That’s not how it works,” I say. I proceed to nicely explain that she is to put her bags under the seat in front of her or in the overhead bins. I don’t know why I try to be reasonable, it has never worked before.

“NAH, NAH, NAH,” she yells and kicks some more.

I look at Tara who looks at me with that, “I can’t take you anywhere look.”

The French woman continues to talk very loud, telling everyone else who understands French that I’m a “bastard.” I do catch that word. This attracts the flight attendant who explains to the woman how things work.

The complaining stops, but I’m now the enemy and when the stewardess leaves, the woman gets her foot under the seat and tries to drive the high heel of her shoe into my toes.

The French are a “mirror” for me. The positive or negative qualities you react to in others are a reflection of the same qualities within you. While I never cut in line, there must be a part of me that takes advantage in less obvious ways. Mentally scanning my experiences, I find some related areas I’d prefer to ignore.

But what about this woman who jumps to the conclusion that my foot space belongs to her? A faulty assumption. I’m respectful of other people’s space, so I refuse to see a reflection here. Next, I explore the idea of jumping to inaccurate conclusions. I don’t have to search far to find some personal examples that relate. Damn! The mirror is probably the most frustrating human-potential concept of them all.

For over an hour, the plane sits at the gate awaiting a flight from Paris. More French people.

We take off 90 minutes late. My sound-killing headphones block outer distractions and I’m quickly asleep. I awaken to see an attractive French flight attendant standing above me staring. “You are a famous American actor, yes?”

“No.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, really.” I rub my eyes trying to reorient to an alien world.

“Be honest with me, yes.”

“No.”

This exchange has attracted the attention of the hateful woman seated in front of me. She is now glaring at me over the top of her seat.

“Really, I’m not an actor. I’m a writer.”

“No, your series ran a long time ago.” She smiles a knowing smile and shakes her head. She knows I’m lying but changes the subject by asking if I would like dinner.

Dinner? It’s 4 AM. I know French people eat late, but come on.

By now Tara is awake and I can tell by the look on her face, she thinks I’ve generated another encounter.

We eat a chicken dinner. Cheyenne joins us. Hunter sleeps through.

As uncomfortable as it is, we all manage to sleep until 8 AM (LA time) and miss a breakfast of croissants and yogurt. Judging from previous French experiences, we’ll have plenty of croissants over the next week. After some humble begging on my part, a male flight attendant brings us oversized cups of French coffee. He says, “Ah ha, you really like French coffee better than American coffee, yes?”

I smile and thank him, but do not tell him I hate French coffee, which is thick as tar, extremely bitter and usually served in a shot-glass size cup. But I’m grateful for any coffee right now. Tara and I drink it down. “Whew!” I don’t think anyone needs to wake up THAT FAST.

The female flight attendant passes out Tahiti Entry cards. She gives me a look that says, “You don’t fool me.”

We arrive in Papeete at 6:45 AM, three hours earlier than Los Angeles time.

The plane stairway descends to the runway. It’s raining and overcast, but the air smells of flowers and foliage. The island rises out of the turquoise sea just I imagined. The passport process and luggage retrieval is easy. We all receive gardenia leis and are directed to a bus that drives us across the island. Even Hunter and Cheyenne are outwardly excited at being here ... and it’s hard to get teenagers excited about anything adults can relate to.

At the docks, we await a catamaran ferry that will take us to the island of Moorea. I’m about to ask one of the greeters and baggage handlers a question, when a pretty woman says something to him in French. He replies. She evidently doesn’t like his response, so she yells and decks him with a fist, followed by a slap. He violently shoves her away and a male separates them as they continue to exchange expletives.

I look at Tara who is standing six feet away. I know she thinks I have somehow inspired this exchange.

The greeter/baggage handler turns to me and says, “Are you going to give me grief too?”

Maybe it’s mercury retrograde, maybe it’s my karma. But I think it has more to do with French genetics. No resistance. No resistance. Peace, light and love.

The ferry lounge is clean and the half-hour ride enjoyable. Once we’re a few miles out to sea, looking back at Papeete, a strip of ochre-colored smog is evident drifting several miles out to sea. “Not here too.”

As we disembark the ferry, the woman who started the fight with the baggage handler gives me a long sweet smile. Tara elbows me in the ribs and whispers, “The mean ones always like you.” She snickers.

I choose silence as the most appropriate response considering how things have been going.

(Continued on the website at “Articles & Columns” or CLICK HERE.)

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NEW CD RELEASE:

Before working in Europe this fall, Dick swears he is going to program his mind in advance with his new “RESPOND WITH PATIENCE & DETACHMENT ZAPPER.” Here are some of the suggestions:  The strong are patient.  You have the power and ability to remain patient and detached in the midst of chaos.  No matter how irrational another person becomes, you remain patient and detached.  You know that what another person says or does cannot effect you. Only what you think about what they say or do effects you.  You give up expectations of other people and accept what is.  You always have the choice of adapting a harmonious or a disharmonious viewpoint. You choose harmony.  You have no expectations of approval or control.  What other people think does not matter to you.  You are even-tempered and you always maintain self-control.  You do. You maintain self-control. Self-control. Self-control.  You have the ability to detach and become an observer of unpleasant situations. You do. It’s easy for you. Detach and observe.  You become an observer who lives in the world but is not of it.  You accept this. You’re patient. You’re detached.  You know that the way other people act is not a reflection of you.  You no longer take irrational behavior personally.  You don’t. You know it’s their problem, not yours.  You easily rise above injustice and betrayal.  What is, is.  You recognize what cannot be changed and ignore it.  You remain patient and detached at all times and under all conditions.  Life is easier and much more pleasant when you’re patient and detached.  You make life easier. You do. It works for you.  You always hold back and evaluate instead of immediately responding.  Hold back, consider, be patient, and then act in accordance with your values.  You do. You always act in accordance with your values.  Many more suggestions. RBZ128--$20.

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Astrology charts and special computerized charts and reports to help you create your own reality are available by clicking here.

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